The Tiny Red House

There’s a tiny red house on a knoll, so picturesque
My heart would thump as I drove slowly by.
Out front there’s a sign and a mail box ‘neath a pine;
How beautiful and country, thought I with a sigh.

In the rear was an outhouse. It looked clean and neat;
It too was tiny, red and white, ‘neath an oak tree,
And a blanket of pine needles covered the ground.
All what I wanted now, was, what could not be.

That tiny house so dear to me, long since has gone,
But a house stands there to commemorate a love I was
fortunate to share. True love does not die, nor, fade away.
It lives on in the soul in the heavens above and on earth.

For me, I believe, everyone has an angel who attends to
Both. My little house, now much bigger shares space
With a family that has grown and does not forget. I think
every one has had their own little house.